


Rule Change

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baseball, Confessions, Domestic, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Silly, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, The Future, cute nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: So many things are different for Steve in the future. Some are worse, some are better.Tony wants to help him figure it out.





	Rule Change

**Author's Note:**

> The entire outline for this fic was dropped by MomFerret when she was visiting me on the weekend, complete with bits of dialogue. I had to write it up for her! She also alpha-read it for me, and rated it "adorbs". Thanks, Mom! This one is for you. :-*
> 
> Thanks to ashes0909 for beta <3

It was three weeks after the battle for New York when Tony realized he couldn't put it off any longer. "He's going to figure it out if someone doesn't tell him," Tony said to Rhodey over the phone that night. "I think it'll be better coming from someone he trusts."

"Are you sure? What if he shoots the messenger?"

"I think I can, like, warm up to it? He's adjusting to the future so well. Someone has to tell him, and I think it's gotta be sooner rather than later. Eventually, he's going to see something and it'll make him ask questions and then we won't be able to, you know, segue softly into it. He's got a StarkTV in his apartment with all the streaming services. I think the only reason he hasn't come to me with questions about what he's seeing yet is that he doesn't know how to turn it on."

"I guess… Have some punching bags ready. He's from the forties, Tony, you don't know how he'll react. It's a lot to take in."

"I know, I know. It's not like he's going to lash out at _me."_

"Are you sure? A shock like that can make people do crazy things and he's probably going to be really upset, finding out so much has changed, and not all for the better."

Tony sighed and ran his hand through his hair, tugging the curl straight. "He was in the army, Rhodey, he's tough. He can handle it. He adjusted to microwaves really quickly, this is nothing."

"I hope you're right. Do you want me to come up and give you some backup?"

"Nah, it's fine. I've got this. I don't want him to feel overwhelmed or like we're ganging up on him, you know? Look, I… I know him fairly well by now, and I actually think this is going to make him feel kind of untethered for a while. He's going to have to do some soul-searching, really dig in and connect with his own identity. I don't want to put the pressure on too hard. I can come to him as a friend, you know?"

"Yeah… I mean, a friend who very much wants to climb him like a tree and see if that superserum goes all the way down," Rhodey reminded him.

"We can warm up to that. In, you know, seven or eight decades."

"Alright, well, you know him best. He's latched on to you, it seems, for some bizarre reason -"

"Hey!"

"- so you're probably the best one to give him The Talk. Call me if you need anything. Good luck."

"Thanks, Rhodey bear!" Tony hung up and twirled a pen between his fingers, planning. "Hey, JARVIS? Can you call Steve and see if he wants to hang with me tonight in the penthouse? Then if things go really wrong, he can storm off to his own place."

There was a pause, then JARVIS replied, "Captain Rogers says he'd be delighted to spend the evening with you, sir."

"Thanks, bud." Tony hoped this wasn't about to go very, very wrong.

**

Steve knocked softly then let himself in at quarter to seven, and Tony leapt up to his feet, spring-loaded. "Hey, Steve!" he said, far too loudly. "Come on in."

Steve followed Tony into the living room. "Thanks for inviting me up tonight. I was just going to be reading alone, but this is - oh wow, that's a lot of snacks."

"Uh, yeah. I wasn't sure what you liked. I thought maybe… um do you want to watch the game?"

"Baseball?" Steve brightened. "Like on television?"

"Yeah!" Tony chewed his bottom lip.

"Sure! That'd be awesome. I used to go to Buck's every Saturday afternoon and we'd sit in front of his radio and listen to Red Barber. It never occurred to me I'd be able to watch it on television now, though. That's so amazing."

"Yup. It's very cool. Have a seat." Tony got Steve settled on the couch then reached for the remote. Should he tell him now? Or transition into it a little more smoothly? "Actually… Steve, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Steve paused with a chip halfway to his mouth. "Okay?"

"I know you're adjusting really well to the future, and I think it's really amazing how quickly you've adapted - I'm really proud of you! But, uh, there's some stuff that's changed that you don't know about, and some things you've said have made it kind of obvious, and I feel like you need to know now, instead of later. Before you embarrass yourself or say the wrong thing. And I thought it'd be best coming from a friend because I think it's going to be a bit of a shock."

"Oh." Steve's face fell. "Okay… I mean, I trust you. Whatever you think is best. JARVIS has been picking some news articles for me to read each day… I read them on my phone."

"Yeah… He won't have picked this yet." Tony opened his mouth again to explain, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. In the end, he picked up the remote and turned the TV on. The telecast started immediately - he'd already fast forwarded through the warmups, and he watched, tense, as Steve's eyes narrowed.

"Where is that?"

"That's Dodgers Stadium," Tony said quietly.

"They don't play at Ebbets Field anymore?" Steve's face fell. "I never got the chance to go."

"Uh, no. No, they don't…"

Steve watched the first few pitches carefully, brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. "Tony… what's the - why is…? What -?"

Tony reached out and landed his hand on Steve's knee. "Steve… something happened in the late fifties. And I know it's going to be tough to hear, but -"

"Just tell me, Tony. Rip the bandaid off." The tension in his voice said his unparalleled strategic mind had already figured it out, but he wasn't ready to accept it yet.

"The Dodgers moved, Steve. They don't play in Brooklyn anymore."

"Where… where do they play?"

"They - uh - it's the LA Dodgers now. They're in California."

_"California?!"_

"Yes."

"Oh my god. So what? Now we've just got the _Giants,_ and the _Yankees?"_ Steve spat, rising to his feet.

"Actually, the Giants moved too. Also to California..."

Steve stilled and stared down at Tony. "Are you kidding me?"

"I am not. But! You got an expansion team. Now the Mets play in Queens. They're plucky underdogs, you'll love them. And they're Eastern Division so you don't have to worry about them facing off against the Dodgers much."

Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times. He watched the Rockies' first baseman come up to bat, his face falling. "I don't think I can watch this," he said quietly.

"Okay, okay!" Tony rubbed his arm soothingly and eased him back down on the couch. "I have some other games saved. I think you'll really like this, once you get the changes figured out. You can watch it just like you were there!" Tony flicked furiously through the saved games from the past few weeks and found a Red Sox v Blue Jays series that wouldn't have any trauma. Unless Steve noticed that one of the teams was from Canada... He hurriedly pressed play and skipped ahead through the chatter to the top of the first. "Look! The Red Sox still play at Fenway Park!"

Steve sunk into the couch, managing to make his 6'2" and 220 pounds look like a sad, wet kitten. "Oh," he tried valiantly. "Neat."

Tony let the game play, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye as he squinted at the screen. He let the game speak for itself, hoping the murmur of the commentators was similar enough to Steve's radio days that he might find himself enjoying it. Two innings in, Tony stopped watching Steve as the Sox loaded the bases but fouled off ball after ball. "Come on, you've seen everything he's got. Just make _contact,"_ Tony growled. Ortiz swung again, and the ump snapped out a strike. "Are you kidding me?" Tony popped a chip in his mouth, scowling.

"Tony… are you a Red Sox fan?"

Tony froze. "Uh… yeah."

"Huh. I assumed you'd follow the Yankees, if you followed it at all." Steve said _Yankees_ the same way someone might say _dog shit_ or _hairball you pull out of the shower drain._ Then Steve brightened a little. "Did the Yankees move to California too?"

Tony chuckled. "Uh, no. Sorry." Steve sighed. "My dad had a box, took me to games but he never actually watched, too busy schmoozing and drinking scotch, so I didn't even know the rules for a long time. I didn't get into it properly until MIT. Rhodey would get cheap student tickets and we'd sit up in the nosebleeds with discount hot dogs and curse the ump for calls there was no way we could see well enough to make. Didn't hurt that my dad hated it when I came home in my Sox hoodie."

Steve softened a little, relaxing. "That sounds nice."

"It was nice. Got me hooked." Tony let out a long, slow breath as Steve nodded calmly and picked up the cheesy popcorn, smelling a piece before popping it in his mouth.

"Wait," Steve said, when they got to the end of the lineup. "Why'd they pull the pitcher?"

"What?"

"Why'd they pull the pitcher? He was doing fine."

"They're at bat, what makes you think they pulled the pitcher. Did I miss something?"

Steve waved at the TV. "This other guy. We're at the end of the lineup and who's this guy?"

"Oh. Shit." Tony froze then pulled his phone out. _Shit, shit, he found out about the DH,_ he texted Rhodey. _Abort, abort!_

 _Why in god's name didn't you pick a NL game??_ Rhodey shot back.

_Because I'm an idiot! I thought he'd like Fenway._

_You just wanted to watch the Sox._

_...Maybe._

_Tell him, Tony._

"He's the designated hitter," Tony admitted. "The  pitcher doesn't bat in American League games."

"Designa- Jesus _Christ._ Why don't we just wrap them bubble wrap and hand-feed them bon bons while being fanned with palm fronds. They're already wearing _helmets_ and good god, is that guy putting on an oven mitt?"

Tony let Steve grumble himself out, and after some exciting fielding and a home run from the Sox, he seemed to be getting more into the game, and forgetting about the shock of everything new.

They watched comfortably for the next five innings, working their way through a bag of chips and dip. "Wait," Steve said, as the starter exited to applause and a man jogged out of the bullpen towards the mound. "Now they really are pulling the pitcher? What's happening?"

"They're putting in a reliever."

"Why? He didn't look hurt."

Tony shrugged. "Probably just pitch count. Or one too many balls."

"What do you mean pitch count? They're up by three. There's no fire to put out. Why would they pull him?"

Tony stuffed a doughnut hole in his mouth. "It's really rare for a starter to play out all nine. Usually takes three or four pitchers a game."

Steve snorted and muttered something into his beer. He gestured in a sort of _so there_ hand wave when the reliever immediately walked the next batter and shoved his hand in a bag of pretzels.

"It's nice getting to see it on TV, isn't it?" Tony offered weakly.

"I guess… It's very… loud. And bright. They sure do spit a lot."

"At least they're not allowed chewing tobacco anymore."

"Hrm." Steve shifted in his seat. "I guess that's a good change," he admitted, his voice dropping lower as he muttered something about "elbow pads" and "pansies."

But by the seventh inning stretch, Steve seemed to, finally, be fully absorbed and having fun. He was clearly having some trouble keeping up, not used to the flashing displays and the style of commentating, but as far as Tony could tell, he wasn't hating it, and that was progress. So what if he didn't have the Dodgers anymore? Steve would find a new team, here in the future, and discover all the amazing things technology had to offer when it came to sports.

"You don't have to check the scores in the paper, anymore," Tony said, during the next commercial break. "I can put an app on your phone that will give you all the news."

"Oh! That's helpful." Steve brightened a little.

"And you can watch any game you like, any time. They're all saved. I've bought you a premium subscription to anything you want. Playoffs and everything."

"Thank you, Tony, that's very kind of you."

"Plus, I can fly us anywhere, so you can see all the teams and the stadiums you never got to see as a kid. I bet you'll like Wrigley field. It's very old school."

Steve's smile had gone soft and affectionate, and Tony's heart skipped a few beats. The game ended on a final strikeout, and Steve turned to Tony as the Sox celebrated their win. "Thanks, Tony, really. That was actually really nice. I know there's some stuff to get used to - some of which is really _stupid,_ but at its core, it's the same game I've always loved. That's comforting. That people are even still playing it, still loving it."

Steve was so close that Tony could see the tiny flecks of green in his perfect blue eyes. "You can listen to it on the radio, too. I'll get a really nice vintage one, sounds exactly the same. I swear some of the commentators are the same guys you would've had as a kid. I think they're immortal."

"Thank you, Tony. You're so good to me."

Steve shifted even closer, eyes glued to Tony's, and Tony swallowed heavily. "There's - uh - there's actually something else I have to tell you about the future. And, um, about me… Something that's changed for the better…"

Steve's smile bloomed into a full on grin and he braced his hand against the couch cushion as he leaned all the way in until his breath was hot on Tony's cheek. "Actually," he whispered, "I think I know that one already." He pressed their lips together.

The kiss was hesitant for a moment, on both their parts, but when Tony relaxed into it, Steve made a soft, happy noise and leaned even closer, driving the kiss deeper. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and let them both tip down. Steve folded over him as he lay back on the couch. The post-game show murmured in the background while they traded lazy, sweet kisses, neither pushing for anything more. Steve's hand gripped Tony's hip, but didn't explore further, and Tony let himself furrow his fingers through Steve's soft hair. Steve was a long line of warm pressure, and Tony couldn't help smiling into the kiss, clutching Steve closer. It was perfect.

"Wait _what?!"_ Steve suddenly ripped himself out of Tony's hold, startling up and staring at the TV. He left Tony's lips tingling.

"What?" Tony breathed, head spinning.

"Fifteen _million?!_ Did he just say _fifteen million dollars?!_ Just to play baseball. What the FUCK?!"

Tony sighed and sunk back down into the cushions. He pulled his phone out. _All in all, went better than expected,_ he texted to Rhodey. _He actually enjoyed himself, plus I think I have a date. Told you he was going to adapt!_

"Fifteen fucking million that's nuts! Who needs that much money? What do the _tickets_ cost these days? And that's just the Red Sox what in the holy fuck do the Yankees pay? This is - oh my god - this is - JARVIS, how much do professional baseball players make?"

_There might be a bit of an adjustment period, actually._


End file.
